


The Hero's Road

by Firekitten



Category: RWBY
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-26
Updated: 2018-11-26
Packaged: 2019-08-29 17:55:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16748863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Firekitten/pseuds/Firekitten
Summary: Though every reincarnation was new, their role was always the same. This time around, Ozpin was set to be the guide, Oscar the driving force and, as always, Ozma was the spirit.Things just… weren’t exactly going as planned right now. [Set sometime after Volume 6, Episode 4]





	The Hero's Road

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by tumblr user undeadwicchan!
> 
> I'll admit that this one was a bit of a challenge to write, since I was doing my best to make clear distinctions between who Ozma, Ozpin and Oscar are, but hopefully I've executed it well enough that the message comes through clearly.

It had been a long time since Ozma had been required to surface to the full forefront of control.

But Oscar, young and inexperienced as he was, could not handle the swarm that overtook Brunswick Farms. Roused by the cries for help, he swiftly took the reigns and joined the fight alongside team RWBY and Qrow. Yet, hindered without Ozpin’s melee experience, he relied entirely on his magic to combat the force – tipping them all off that he was neither of the two they had come to expect to see.

As soon as the last Grimm faded, they turned on him, as he expected they would.

“What are you doing here?” Sir Branwen’s voice was as sharp as his weapon. Unlike his kin, fear did not shake him; he stood taller in the face of adversary. Were the man a true bird, one might believe such a valiant personality would go up against even an eagle. It was a quality that was hard not to admire.

But when faced with it in opposition, even dug deep in their mind as he was, he could feel the pang from Ozpin’s heart. He fathomed that no matter how many times he was reborn, there would always be those select few that their desertion would strike hard enough to unbalance them. It was just unfortunate that those around them often forgot the fact they were still entirely human themselves.

“Do you know how many lifetimes I have led?” Ozma questioned. He turned to face them, their combined ire doing nothing to weigh him. “Ninety-three. The ninety first and second were the closest we’ve ever gotten to unifying humanity. A hundred years to end a war and bring about comradeship among our kingdoms. To create technology and advancements the world had never seen before. To build the schools and raise a defense force for the many less-abled.” He stepped forward, his voice rising with his righteous fury, “And one night was all it took to see so much of that undone. One night for irreparable damage to be done.” He looked to Lady Xiao Long as he said this, watching as her gaze averted. He turned to Lady Belladonna and Lady Schnee next, “For fear and uncertainty to halt us.” Finally, to Lady Rose and Sir Branwen, “Or for those to be lost that could never be returned.”

The snow crunched underfoot as Qrow challenged him, “That’s not-”

“One mere hour for you all to lose your confidence.” He swept his cane in indication of them, stalling it to point to the man. When only silence reigned, Ozma placed it down, crossing his hands over the top. “I am not naïve to what the power of destruction can do. It is in it that has my former love so lost.” He shut his eyes, briefly seeking the one locked away; but Ozpin still was not ready to give up the key. “It is in that, I find myself lost as well.”

“Then how can you ask us to fight an enemy we can’t beat?!” Yang snapped, her fire refueled. Another quality that was easy to admire, but when misdirected, became her greatest obstacle.

“Then I will not.” He replied simply. “I instead ask you to fight for what is right. Every moment we delay is a chance for Salem to continue her advance. Atlas and Shade are no doubt her next targets. Every life we can save by merely intervening is worth it. However, whether you stand by me for that end or not is only a choice you can make.” He walked past them, heading back for the farmhouse they had come to make their own.

“Where are you going?” Asked Lady Schnee.

“To lie down. I used a tad too much magic. Oscar will need time to recover.” He paused, glancing over his shoulder. “And he, like all of you, needs time to consider what he truly wishes to do.” He continued onward.

 _What **I** wish to do? _Oscar repeated faintly.

 _Did you truly not believe you had a choice?_ He thought back.

Silence was his only answer.

Ozma quickened his step just so. It seems he had more work to do.

* * *

When Oscar awoke, he was neither on the couch he had laid down on nor in the farmhouse at all. Above him were the branches of trees, sunlight streaming through and dappling along the ground, confusing him with their lack of snow and cold. As he sat up, it was with a start he realized he was not alone.

Ozma sat on the ground a few feet from him. He may have been meditating but at the sound of movement, his eyes opened. “Ah, it was much easier to call you here than I feared.”

“What’s going on? Where are we?” Oscar demanded. Things were already weird enough in his head; if he found out he had some crazy super ability to astral project, he was **done**.

“Calm, young one.” Ozma replied, raising a hand. “You are still asleep. This is merely a mental space in which we can talk. As for where we are…” He looked about. “You’ll have to tell me. It is your psyche after all.”

He looked around, realizing the other man was right. He did know this place. “It’s one of the forest trails that leads back to my farm.” It was the same one he’d taken to leave.

There was a rattle of armor as the other stood. “Then perhaps we can take a walk together. I’d enjoy to see it.”

Yeah right. Still, Oscar allowed himself to be helped up, doing his best to keep up with him as they walked down the dirt path. As they did, he could not help but sneak glances at the man. He truly appeared as if he were someone who stepped right out of a fairytale, with armor meant for a knight and a cape befitting a superhero. Even his body language seemed strong, with his shoulders and head high, his stride long so that it forced Oscar to take two steps to his every one. How could he walk with such confidence when everything in his life had gone so wrong?

Ozma caught him staring and smiled at him. “Are you alright?”

“Y-Yea!” Oscar looked down, his face heating. “What did you want to talk to me about?”

“Whatever you would like. I’m sure you have a lot on your mind.”

He thought of asking the one he’d just thought, but quickly shook it aside. He went for something safer instead. “Why do you want to see my dingy old farm? I’m sure it’s nothing nearly as amazing as the stuff you’ve seen.”

Ozma chuckled. “You know, I always loved adventuring. It was what made me decide to set off from home. I wanted to see the world. Experience everything to its fullest.” He waved his hands outwards, encapsulating a sight Oscar could not see. “My travels brought me to so many places. Grand castles. Beautiful canyons. Stunning oceans. And yes, even ‘dingy’ old farms.”

“And you left, as easy as that.” He shook his head. Figures.

“I never said it was easy. My father was furious. Every night he told me I was throwing my life away. And my mother cried and cried.” Ozma looked away and though his smile stayed, there was something sorrowful there. “I don’t think I could have ever disappointed them more.”

Like a Grimm to a mourner, he couldn’t help but wonder what his own parents would have said, had they still been around. He felt something settle against his gut uncomfortably. A weight he hadn’t felt in years, but its presence was as agonizing as ever. He ran a hand over his face, trying to act like he was brushing away an itch and not the burn in his eyes. “So why did you do it?”

“It was all I wanted. I didn’t want to live with the regret I hadn’t tried.” Ozma placed his hand over his heart. “It just felt right.”

His feet stopped, the sentence striking a painfully familiar chord in him and words spilled out before Oscar could help it, “Is that why I felt that way when I left? Was it you!?” So many emotions were filling him he didn’t know where one began and another ended, but anger seemed to take the helm, raising in a great tidal wave inside of him. “Huh?! **_Was it?!_** How many other things haven’t been me?! What else is just you or him or, or someone else!!”

Ozma reached for him, “Oscar-”

“No!” He smacked the hand away, stumbling backwards. “When I was younger, I used to dream about it, you know? Setting out on my own big adventure. Becoming a hero like the ones we saw on TV. I _thought_ that was what I wanted.” He looked away, his fists so tight at his side they shook. “But now I get it. I never had it in me to leave. It’s… it’s always just been you, hasn’t it? And that’s what it’s going to be like, isn’t it?!” He bowed his head, fighting down tears but not the other’s approach this time, or the hands that laid on his shoulders. He let his head thunk against the metal breastplate. “I didn’t even get a choice! It’s not fair!” Metal rang as he slammed his fist against the other’s chest. “It’s not fair!!”

The arms that encircled him tightened. “Yeah, you’re right. It’s not.”

He hit him again, strength waning. By the third strike it was barely more than a weak knock. He slumped against him. “I’m just going to disappear, aren’t I?”

“Of course not.” Ozma’s voice was soft, almost fatherly in a way he’d almost forgotten, as he spoke against his hair. “If Ozpin nor I have disappeared, why would you?”

Oscar snuffled, tilting his head up, “But Qrow, he said…”

“An injured heart will say much in an effort to ease its own pain.” He stepped back, just enough to look at him properly. “I will not lie and say that the lines do not blur at times, but there will always be a distinctive you in here and your input is always as important as ours. And you will _always_ have the right to choose.”

“What about at Haven?” He bit back.

Ozma laughed softly. “The same can be said about Jinn.”

His eyes widened. “I- That was- I was just-”

There was a shake of his head and a hand on his shoulder once more as the man lent down to his eye-level. “I apologize, it was not an accusation. Merely an observation. None of us have been very fair to each other. But while the past can’t be undone, we can change moving forward. If this coexistence is to work, that is.”

“So what if I said I wanted to go back home?” He challenged.

He expected him to blanch or backtrack. But Ozma only smiled and said, “Then I’ll help you buy the train ticket this time.” The hand on his shoulder squeezed; a reassuring touch. “Is that what you want?”

Oscar looked away, wiping away tears. “No. I dunno. Maybe.”

He rose. “What is it that makes you uncertain?”

A sigh heaved from deep in his chest, focusing on the dirt between their shoes. “I’m… not like you guys. I’m no knight running out to save damsels from towers. Or some wise professor who can motivate a whole school of people to be these great fighters.” He laughed bitterly as he threw up his hands. “I couldn’t even get that guy to shut off those stupid turrets! I’m not particularly smart or skilled,” Finally, he looked up at other. “Or brave.”

An eyebrow rose like a startled exclamation. “Are those the things that you believe a hero to be?”

“Of course they are!” When Ozma’s expression did not change though, Oscar felt uncertain suddenly. “…Aren’t they?”

He hummed thoughtfully as he waved to the trail before them. As Oscar took his place beside him again, he was given his answer, “They are good qualities, certainly. But one can be skilled, yet never use them to assist others. One can be smart, but remain uncaring to other’s plights. One can be brave, but recklessly so.”

“So then, what does make a hero?” He asked.

Ozma’s eyes glittered merrily. “What is it about Lady Rose that impresses you so?”

Ruby? “Well she’s… amazing.” He thought back on the train, how easily she got Dudley to listen to her when he couldn’t. How she commanded her team to focus. How even now her words to him back at the house at Haven still inspired him. “She can motivate others.”

“What do you think it is about her that gives her that ability?”

As he tried to think it over, he found he couldn’t pin down something tangible. It just seemed to be something that was inherently there. A piece of her that made people want to stand beside her. Something in the way she viewed the world, with such a bright and kind spirit, that made others want to do the same.

… _Oh_. “Her heart.” He said finally.

“Yes.” Ozma nodded. “A good, strong heart is first thing a true hero needs.”

Oscar placed a hand over his own. Did he have that?

“If I may be bold,” He added, tone amused. “I do think it is also worth saying that I do not often witness fourteen-year-olds rushing across the top of speeding trains. I believe what you lack is not any of the things you think you do, but merely your own self-belief.”

“What do you mean?”

“To have faith in others, first you must find it in yourself. Though, I will admit, in the face of failure, it can be one of the hardest things to hold onto.” As they reached towards the end of the trail, the world grew dark and grey as storm clouds hovered overhead, blocking out the sun. Ozma’s expression seemed to do the same as looked into the distance. “No matter how strong they are.”

Oscar stared as well, discovering that they had not entered the plains that would lead to the farm, but a courtyard leading to a school he had never seen in person, but recognized as if it were his own home. “Beacon.”

“How curious. I did say before this was your psyche we were traveling in. So why do you think it brought us here?” Ozma quipped.

He gazed upwards slowly, to the office he had once been able to mentally photograph perfectly, and knew exactly who was hiding within it.

Oscar squared his shoulders and held his head high just like his companion.  “I think it’s telling me it’s my turn to rescue someone from a tower.”

He walked forward.

* * *

A quiet, familiar ding roused Ozpin from his stupor. He lifted his head from his arms, finding it as heavy as the rest of him felt. He could hear the gears around him turning, and realized where he was. Asleep in his office again? Then no doubt it was Glynda coming to chastise him. He reached for his glasses, slipping them on to at least appear more presentable – and with it his hazy vision cleared, startling him when instead of his dear assistant, it was two familiar gentlemen approaching.

Right.

He was dead.

(How was Glynda doing? And… how long would it be until the truth got to her? What would she think of him then?)

“Ah, time for The Walk?” Ozpin asked, willing himself not to sink back to sleep.

“Wait. This is a thing?” Oscar asked.

Though he couldn’t muster a laugh, he could not help but be lightened by the boy’s simple innocence. He was going to go on to be a great reincarnation.

“It’s a practice I sometimes perform once my new host learns the full truth. I find it helps to uplift the spirit.” Ozma replies. “Though, it’s usually not this soon.”

Oscar turned to him. “I learned sooner than you?”

Ozpin crossed his hands, smiling to the boy. “Four years, to be exact. I was also twice your age.” He focused on one of the larger cogs underneath the glass surface of the desk, watching it turn. “I’m embarrassed to admit I purchased a one-way ticket to Vacuo that same day.”

“…What made you stay?”

What indeed. “As luck would have it, whether it be good or bad, a rather… problematic student was sent to my office that day. If I recall, this time around he had intentionally set the dust lab on fire.” Though, it could have also been the time he clogged the drain of the courtyard fountain. The record had become quite extensive. “Most of the other facility believed him to simply be a destructive sort. But I suspected different. Yet no matter how many times he was sent to my office, no matter how many conversations we had, I couldn’t get him to speak a word. He would just ask for his punishment in his crude way, pay it, and be back in a week.”

Ozpin rose to his feet, heading to his window that overlooked his former school. “That day though, on what I thought would be my last, I took a chance and acted on my suspicions.” His eyes darted to Oscar’s reflection as the boy approached. “You see, Beacon was always a school designed to have a low entry requirement. It was a school not just meant to train the best of the kingdom, but also be a shelter many could seek refuge in. Quite a few enrolled were those thrown from their own homes. So, I questioned him if that was what had happened to him and I learned more than I thought he would offer.”

He shut his eyes, still able to picture so clearly the seventeen-year-old Qrow that had eventually dissolved into tears, angry and pained by a world that didn’t want him and so full of hate at himself for a semblance he could not help. It seemed to be an impossible problem. Fortunately, Ozpin knew a bit about those. It was surprising to realize just how much of a difference a little empathy could go to heal a hurt soul.

“I did not stay that day for the war. I stayed because he helped remind me why being a professor could be so rewarding. I enjoyed having a part in my students’ lives, to help guide them into finding better ones.” He sighed. “I realize now that I’ve repaid him rather poorly for that.”

“So then, how are you repaying him any better by hiding away here?”

Ozpin turned to the boy, unsure if he was more surprised by his gall or his bull-headed honesty. In the background, Ozma started to chuckle.

“I did not lie before. I – **_we_** – do not know where to go from here.” And after so many lifetimes trying, maybe it was time to admit they just weren’t cut out for the task.

But it was Oscar, despite how he often quivered in the face of Grimm, who nodded and said. “Yeah, I know. And that’s scary.” He shifted on his feet, admitting softly, “But it’s even scarier facing it alone.”

That, more than anything, snapped him into wakefulness. _You are meant to be guiding him Oz. What are you doing?_

He placed a hand on his shoulder, knowing how much weight it was already carrying and much, much too much for one so young. “I’m so sorry, Oscar.”

“I am sorry too.” Ozma finally spoke, crossing over to them. “To both of you; that you must bear the burden of my mistakes as if they are your own.” He looked to each of them. “But if it is something we must bear together, then let us bear it equally, as we too should be.”

Oscar’s eyebrow rose in confusion, looking towards him for help. “Uhh…?”

He smiled. “He means that I need to stop treating you like a child."

“Oh.” He replied, seeming to take that newfound growth in. Whatever conclusion he came to made him nod once more, before he spoke again, “I’m sorry to both of you as well. I thought I was doing something right, with Jinn. I thought I was helping but all it did was end up hurting everyone.”

“You are certainly not the only one.” Ozpin agreed. The more he let those words sink in, the more he realized he was not the only one who needed to hear them. “Oscar?”

“Yes?”

“When we awaken, there’s someone I’ll need to speak with.”

The boy frowned. “Okay. But if he punches us again, I’m hitting him with the cane.”

Ozpin finally found it in him to laugh again.


End file.
